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by le_paquet_fou



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:22:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23174632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_paquet_fou/pseuds/le_paquet_fou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Home

I know most people look fondly on the place they were born since it was their home, but that always seemed difficult to me. It’s not that Vézelay is a bad place. It’s beautiful, has great wine, and even has some sort of religious importance, if all the people that passed through are any tell. No, the actual place is nice, but the people are not. They didn’t let me be myself, even though the rest of the country couldn’t care less.

See, there was one boy in my class, Mathieu, and I always thought he looked kinda cute. I wanted to be his friend for as long I can remember. One day, around the end of the school year, all of the boys in our class got together and said we would pick flowers and give them to the prettiest girl we knew in our class. It was silently decided that once a boy gave a flower to a girl, she was ‘off limits’ to the others.

Unfortunately, there were more boys than girls, so of course there would be a few of us that were all alone. When the last day of school had arrived, almost all of the boys gave flowers to the girls. I wasn’t terribly upset by this, so I just sat down in the grass and started picking at the blades, picking apart grass seeds and tossing them away.

Then Mathieu came over, looking kind of upset. He didn’t seem too upset, so I let him be. He must’ve seen me all alone, because he then sat down next to me. We said hello, then I went back to tearing apart the grass. Mathieu sat thinking for a little bit before speaking.

“Hey, do you wanna give each other the flowers?”

“Why?”

“We don’t have a girl to give it to, so why don’t we give it to each other?” This seemed fair to me. I handed him the flower I picked, he handed me his, and we went back to sitting in the grass, doing whatever clueless seven year olds do. We eventually started talking to each other. I asked him to be my friend, he said sure. I was so happy that when I went back home, I was practically jumping with joy. I ran over to my mother and showed her the flower.

“Look, Maman, look! Mathieu gave me a flower and said he’ll be my friend! This is the best day ever!” She looked shocked. I didn’t get why back then. I just ran around the house like I was on a sugar high. When my father came back home, I ran to him and said the same exact thing. He just went really quiet, said he had stuff to do, and went to his office. I didn’t care, I was happy.

A year passed, Another flower exchange where Mathieu and I stuck together and gave each other flowers. Then, because we both saw our parents kiss and were curious about what it was like, we kissed each other. On the lips. It was a harmless kiss, little kids always try it just because they can. Eight year old me didn’t know any better and I felt like I was on top of the world.

When I got home, it was all I could talk about. I was so happy that I couldn’t see what was wrong at the time. My mother clearly tried to accept it as just something little kids did, but my father hated it. It was around that time that he started to ignore me.

Mathieu and I stayed close friends for only one more year. With the little flower exchange clearly staying, we accepted that we probably wouldn’t find a girl and just stuck with each other. I didn’t mind, of course, but I wonder if he did. That also happened to be the year the teachers saw us kiss and immediately brought us aside.

“What are you boys doing? You know you can’t do that; God forbids it, as do we.” Neither of us really understood. We were kept after school and our parents came in. They were brought to a separate room where they were told. There was some shouting, and then Mathieu’s parents stormed out, dragging him along with them. We didn’t even get to say goodbye.

My parents were a bit more gentle. My father grabbed my hand and pulled me along. Maman just seemed terribly worried. I started to think, ‘’is this my fault? Am I making Maman sad?’’ When we got home and Charles was put to bed, they sat me down on the couch.

“Marcel, sweetie, why did you do that?”

“I don’t know. I thought it was okay.” I could see Maman’s worry, anxiety, even, over this, and I started to panic. “I didn’t mean to, Maman, really. I didn’t know it was so bad.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You know now, right? And you’ll never do that again?” I nodded, and she smiled a little in relief. “Good, good. Now, hurry on to bed. You can’t stay up too late.”

“I know. Goodnight Maman, Papa.” I gave them hugs and kisses on the cheek before going to bed. I felt horrible, and swore I would never do that again. Not that I needed to keep away. The next day, when all of us were playing, I saw Mathieu. I tired to wave him over, but he didn’t come. I waited and waited, but he never even said hi. I tried to get to him when the sun started to set, but he flinched away when I reached towards him.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I can’t be around you anymore.”

“What? Why?”

“Maman said that if I did, you would make me bad. I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to be bad.”

“But I won’t do that, I swear! Please, I just want to play.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Goodbye.” That was it. That was the last time I ever really hung out with him. I tried my best not to cry, I really did, but it didn’t work. When I got home that evening, I was sobbing. Maman tried to ask what was wrong, but I just ran away and locked myself in my room. I cried and cried until I finally fell into a fitful sleep. I blamed myself, and quite honestly, still do a little bit. It’s sad, what that village made me think about myself. They ruined me.

It was awkward between me and Mathieu for the rest of my time in Vézelay. I just wanted to be friends, never anything more, but it’s like the adults put a giant red ‘X’ on me. No matter how hard I tried, I never got any friends, and people avoided me as much as they could.

At least, when we moved to Paris, I got a fresh start. As much as I don’t enjoy cities, it’s a wonderful place where I can finally be happy. I don’t know, maybe I should love Vézelay, but if I had to pick where I would say I’m from, I’d say Paris. It feels more like home.


End file.
